


land, lake, sky - and soul

by Lake (beyond_belief)



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28979790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Lake
Summary: A quiet moment in their day.
Relationships: Marcus Flavius Aquila/Esca Mac Cunoval
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	land, lake, sky - and soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pollitt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/gifts).



There are moments in their day that are so still, so gentle, that Esca must sometimes rub a hand over his eyes to reassure himself that his life is real and true, and not a dream. That he's not dying in some dirty arena pierced through by a blade, and the gods have chosen to grace him at the moment of his death with the feeling of resting on his back in a soft hollow of ferns, his fingers entwined with those of the one he has chosen to love.

Then he turns his head and sees Marcus there beside him, a true and solid presence, gaze already alight on Esca's face, a smile on his lips. Some space away, their horses make soft sounds against the grass. Esca blinks a few times, and Marcus' smile grows wider. "You were certainly lost in thought," Marcus says.

"I am not used to such quiet."

Marcus stretches slightly and his fingers tighten briefly around Esca's for a moment. "There was plenty of quiet on our journey north."

"Not like this." He rolls toward Marcus, the fern fronds crushing beneath him and releasing their sharp green scent, and presses a kiss to the scar beneath Marcus' chin. "I mean - these times when we have little to do but enjoy the land."

"And each other?" Fingers push gently into his hair.

"And each other," Esca agrees. Careful of Marcus' bad leg, he moves closer. Looks down at Marcus' broad face, his kind eyes. The low buzz of insects seems to rise and fall. 

They rode out to this place planning to hunt small game; each of them has a leather sling and stones, and each a bow and quiver of arrows. Esca would rather damn the hunting and rest his mouth at the hollow of Marcus' throat. "The sun will be setting soon," he murmurs against the warm skin there, before he lays his head on Marcus' shoulder.

The fingers still in his hair scratch lightly against his scalp. "Yes."

"There'll be no meat for dinner." 

Marcus moves a shoulder like he's unconcerned, which he truly might be. There are still plenty of bannock cakes left, and they have eaten plenty worse than slightly stale bread. Esca presses another kiss to the line of his jaw, then asks, considering, "Will you grow a beard for the winter?" 

Marcus' hand moves from Esca's hair to his own chin, which he rubs for a moment. His mouth twists. "I would look more like a Briton."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"No," Marcus replies, with a low chuckle. "I've never grown much of a beard before, but it's not a terrible idea for the colder weather."

He says it in such a way that Esca slides a hand under his cloak and pinches him for it, right at the waist. Marcus twitches slightly and laughs, and the hand in Esca's hair dips to touch the slave-scar of his ear, tracing it gently. The scar is kept mostly hidden by the shaggy fall of Esca's hair; he no longer abides by the Roman grooming standards, and his hair is now almost to his shoulders. 

Marcus has yet to give in to such, so Esca has learned the best way to angle a blade so that he can trim Marcus' hair to the length Marcus tries to keep it at. He likes doing it - kneeling up behind a seated Marcus, who holds perfectly still as Esca works with fingers and blade and the carved-bone comb. The time for it is nearly come again; he's seen Marcus continually pushing the hair back from his eyes over the last few days. 

A golden-orange tinge is coming over the sunlight, and Esca lifts his head to squint at the skyline. The terrain of their plot of land is mostly gentle hills, with a creek cutting through that provides quick access to fresh water and draws animals. They both know nearly every measure of it now, yet Esca would not want to cross it in full dark, even with the horses, unless it was absolutely necessary. There are too many dips where little to no moonlight can reach. And while Marcus' leg is as strong as it will ever be again, there is too much work to be done for one of them to be downed by a twisted ankle, or worse. 

All of that, and Esca is beginning to feel hungry. "As comfortable as you are, Marcus, I must insist we lie here no longer," he says. 

"I suppose this position is not all that proper for my leg," Marcus replies, the words a mumble against Esca's skin. "I'll need to work the soreness out later, no doubt."

Esca remembers the time spent at Aquila's villa before they'd brought the golden eagle standard to the magistrate. Enough days for Marcus' leg to heal once more, abused flesh knitting back together in raised pink lines; Esca insisting he must not hobble to the magistrate's office with an open wound. 

"The Gods may not favor your healing yet another time," he said crossly, near to binding Marcus to his chair to convince him to be still, "and surely you don't want to lose the leg, Marcus, not after all this."

Marcus grumbled, but they both knew Esca was right. Aquila only raised his bushy eyebrows at them; he also understood Esca to be correct in his insistence.

Marcus' thigh now is a spiderweb of scars, a few areas more like knots than others, and he has an oil obtained from a healer to rub into the skin when it feels tight. Esca has done it for him more than once. He could do so again this evening. 

"Come," he says, drawing back from the warmth of Marcus' embrace to sit up. "No doubt the new ponies need their meal as well."

A fond look crosses Marcus' face. "I suppose you're right."

"I'm always right," Esca laughs, and watches the corners of Marcus' eyes crinkle up as he smiles. 

Marcus leans up on his elbows; it's close enough that he can press his mouth to Esca's in a soft kiss. Slowly, Esca moves backwards with purpose, forcing Marcus to chase kisses at the same time as he's being drawn to his feet. When Marcus is fully upright, Esca puts his arms around Marcus' waist and kisses him fully, licking into his mouth, not stopping until he feels Marcus beginning to tremble. "Wicked…" Marcus breathes, teeth scraping Esca's bottom lip, "getting my blood up like this."

"A shame," Esca teases, and shivers himself at the feel of Marcus' warm hand gently squeezing the back of his neck. Then he steps free of Marcus' embrace and starts toward his horse, saying over his shoulder "Race you back home?" and ducking Marcus' lunging reach with a grin, laughing.


End file.
